


Right Up to the Moon.

by Elinry



Category: Gandrew - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Birthday Presents, Birthday card, Flowers, Fluff, Kissing, Letter, Love, M/M, Pining, Soft Boys, feelings revelation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26914588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elinry/pseuds/Elinry
Summary: "i met you in los angeles, years before i knew anything, you came in into my life and i was absolutely crazy for you."Andrew gifts Garrett a card for his birthday.
Relationships: Andrew Siwicki/Garrett Watts, Garrett Watts/Andrew Siwicki
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40





	Right Up to the Moon.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in my drafts for far too long and I finally found the time to finish and post it. Hope you like it!

**"I WISH WE COULD STAY HERE FOREVER,"** Garrett mumbled grasping at the dandelions and blowing its seeds away, with closed eyes silently reciting "I wish, I wish, I wish." It was childlike and warm like him and as he held a small bouquet of California poppies, pressed to his chest, I had every urge to hold him. I let the thought linger in the air, I let it fly away with the rest of the wind, suppressed it, and let it ache,  _ for another day _ . It was three days before June 15th and I had promised him that we'd do all his favorite things before the end of the week, which is how we had ended up here, in a field by the side of the road somewhere in California. 

"What do you mean forever?" I turned to him, he was wearing the flower necklace I had made for him out of wax flowers, the only thing I knew how to make. I was wearing the flower crown he had made for me out of yarrows, he was always better at this than me. 

"I mean for as long as we can possibly exist, even after we've turned to ghosts, we can haunt this field for as long as we are given." 

"I like the way you say things." And of course, I hadn't meant to tell him but he looked golden under the sun and his words tasted sweet, the words had already slipped past my tongue before I could think. 

"Andrew, you're so sweet! Thank you, I barely know what I'm saying half the time." His soft lips stretched into a smile, his eyes crinkled along with it and I knew he meant it wholeheartedly. 

"It's getting late." The sun was minutes away from disappearing and I reckoned this place looked less magical after dark. 

"I know." 

"You know we don't have to leave now if you want to stay awhile longer." 

"Will you be okay?" I couldn't exactly pinpoint where it started but since I could remember I have always been afraid of the dark. It could've been the night after I had gone to the movies with this boy from my grade, though I hadn't told my parents he had told his, we lived in the heart of Chicago and we were cursed with being neighbors, word traveled fast and my parents found out, along with everyone else I knew. My mother had sent me to my room early that night and I vividly remember the conversation she had with my father as I tried to fall asleep, "I refuse to believe I raised a child that is gay." The room had gotten smaller and far too dark, after that I always slept with the lights. 

"I'll be fine."  _ As long as I'm with you _ . He nodded, his hand glided down my arm and his finger laced with mine. It felt different, I had always been used to holding a hand smaller than mine and now, I was the smaller hand. And I could pretend that holding his hand had no effect on me and yet I wouldn't, I rested my head on a bed of flowers as we counted the stars above us, and my heartbeat erratically in my chest. 

**. . . . .**

The image of his hand in mine, the flowers on his chest, his arms in my arms, didn’t leave me on the drive home, when opening the door, washing the dishes, answering emails, and trying to go to bed. It grasped at me and begged for me to indulge in it, _ you like him, you like him, you like him _ . 

I grabbed at the card on my nightstand, the one I had bought weeks ago in Spokane, "That Feeling When You Wake Up and Realize It's Saturday." Though unrequited that was the feeling he gave me, he was my Saturday. I didn't know why I'd bought it, just knew that it would be for him. I'd use it as his birthday card if only I could figure out what to write. I had a lot to tell Garrett, he always made me laugh, he was an unfathomably good friend, he made me want to be a better person. And then there were the things I'd never be brave enough to tell him, such things, such thoughts, that made me want to hide away, to forget and lose. Though I had to start somewhere, so in the midst of the night I wrote, under the fluorescent yellow lamp on my nightstand, "Garrett,". 

**. . . . .**

It was the day before June 15th, his hair glistened under the balmy sun, Garrett had convinced me to read outside on his lawn chairs. 

"What d’ya think?" He asked, placing his thumb between chapters as he closed it, his attention on me. I had picked a book from his shelf, the one with the most pleasing spine, it was pale pink and the words on the cover were in red, white, and royal blue. It was about the prince and the first son, they fought and they kissed and they loved one another, in secret. I found it beautifully poetic, “Dear Thisbe, I wish there weren’t a wall. Love, Pyramus." If there weren't a wall. If I loved him any better, if I had enough courage to tell him, perhaps. 

"It's actually really good." 

"See, I told you, Andrew. I have this other book, we watched the movie the other day, remember? Armie Hammer was in it, he looked so damn good, anyway he reads the audiobook and it's amazing. I have a copy in my room because I was up late reading spooky stories and I couldn't sleep-" 

When Garrett got excited he'd tend to go on and on about it, never leaving anything out, I had known him for years and I had yet to figure him out and how he had the memory to remember every little detail. I didn't really know what he was saying, my thoughts and his words sort of combined into this confusing jumble in my head. I just nodded and listened to him try his hardest to not spoil the ending of the book, though we'd already seen the movie, and I couldn't be more in love with him.

**. . . . .**

It was June 15th and the lights in his house were a light purple, lilac almost, they strobed softly in between colors. Garrett looked angelic, half drunk half sober, smiling at me, eyes glossy. I hadn't given him his present yet and he hadn't seemed to mind, I was waiting, hoping he'd bring it up first so it wouldn't seem like such a big deal, because it was. I had finally found the courage to tell Garrett just not enough courage to tell him without looking at the card. 

"Wish we had more alcohol right about now." His words slurred together messily, like honey pouring out from a jar, fast then slow then fast again, without a steady pace. 

"This good enough?" I handed him the bottle I had brought in my bag, part of his present, Rose of Pinot Noir. 

"Siwicki." He started all messy and drunk and beautiful, "Thank you." 

"Don't thank me yet." And so I grabbed the rest of his present and shoved it in his hands, trying my hardest to not look at him in the eyes, pretending that this wasn't at all the most important thing I'd ever do. In his hands was a book, wrapped in red wrapping paper that had a white dog with a crown printed all over, in the corner was a label with my name on it, so he wouldn't forget. 

The book was "Gay Love Poetry" and though I'd never be so obvious, the book was beautiful. I bought it at a thrift store a week prior, Garrett preferred books that way, ones that had a story beyond its pages. There'd be writing on the margins, on the inside of the cover, on the last page, and he'd treasure the words and imagine a story where those words made sense. "For my beloved, please return to me once you've finished. We aren't forbidden. France 1998." The words were indented into the softcover, whoever had written this had left notes under almost every poem, adding their own lines and phrases, "I'll write to you for us both, I'll remember once you forget, we are love." 

They had left one poem completely untouched, not a poem, a letter, from Oscar Wilde to Lord Alfred Douglas; "My Own Boy, Your sonnet is quite lovely, and it is a marvel that those red rose-leaf lips of yours should be made no less for the madness of music and song than for the madness of kissing. Your slim gilt soul walks between passion and poetry. I know Hyacinthus, whom Apollo loved so madly, was you in Greek days." It became my favorite. Then, there was the card. It had taken me weeks to finish and there it lay, in his hands, waiting to be read. 

"Andrew!" He stretched out the 'w' in my name, "Thank you! Oh my gosh I'm like too excited, will you read it to me?"  _ Shit.  _

"What?" 

"The card, will you read it to me?" He smiled and I was so fucked, so utterly and completely fucked. 

"Yeah, of course." My heart thumped in my chest, thump, thump, thump, faster and faster and I couldn't possibly do this. He closed his eyes and settled himself on the space next to me on the couch;

" Garrett, 

if you were never born the world would have ended by now. thank you for being a gem of a person and a gem of a friend to me, happy birthday. i want to begin by saying that i will not apologize for the things that i have written to you in this card, i am not ashamed of them, i do not regret. 

i met you in los angeles, years before i knew anything, you came in into my life and i was absolutely crazy for you. my eyes were desperately waiting for the sight of you and they had yet to realize how beautiful you were, how beautiful you still are. often as i lay awake i wonder if you are awake too, if somehow we are connected by the same moon outside the window, that somehow you would already know and i wouldn't have to become brave. 

i have always been afraid and as i grow older i have realized that because of this fear i have not allowed myself to indulge in the simplicity of life. you love me, i only know this because you have told me and in doing so you have made this so much harder. i never understood what your love meant until after you left for Japan and you had met someone there. you love me as a friend and i've never known anything more bittersweet. 

the other afternoon that you fell asleep on my shoulder i did too but before i did i thought of all the things that had brought me here to you, college in chicago, the studios i produced music in, the videos i edited, all these things that were so important to me at the time, and then, now, they do not compare to how important you are to me. i do not deserve you in the slightest and yet i still write you this and ask you to read it, i am no longer afraid of the things i do not understand, i understand this. 

i will not be afraid, i will not apologize for my feelings. 

you told me in the field, while blowing dandelions, that you would never let anyone tell you they loved you unless they said it twice, one for show and one for good measure. 

Garrett Watts, I love you, I love you, I love you, one for show, one for good measure, and one because i have spent so many years telling myself that i couldn't, that i need to tell you again. 

happy birthday Garrett. 

Andrew "

"You love me?" He asked quietly.

"Yes," I said without thinking and then; "I love you right up to the moon."*

He opened his eyes, "Oh that is far. That is very very far." 

We were in silence for a moment or two, I awaited the words, the painful truth.

"Well then, I love you too." He smiled, "up to the moon and all the other planets I can't name." And my worries subsided.

"Thought you knew everything." I laughed because all the tension was gone, he loved me.

"I'm drunk."

"No excuse Watts."

"Shut up Siwicki, not like you could."

"Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupi-" And he kissed me. Knocked all the air out of my lungs. If there is a medium in which I can both be awake and asleep I am sure I am in it, the kiss, his lips, were like a dream. It was soft and tender and the way his hands gently cupped my jaw and the way my hands were in his hair, it felt right, like we were supposed to end up here, at this moment, all along. 

**. . . . .**

My hands were sprawled on his chest, tracing designs and twisting the buttons on his shirt. Garrett kissed my hair and mumbled, "best birthday ever." 

"Really?" 

"Of course I got to do all my favorite things and I got a boyfriend." I hummed happily. 

"Well actually now that I think about it, you never asked me to be your boyfriend." He smirked. 

"You're really going to make me ask? We've already made out like five times today." 

"So you're keeping track?" 

"Shut up." I nudged him playfully, "so I really have to do this?" 

"I'll scream if you don't." 

"Okay, okay." I sat up and grabbed his hands, "Garrett Watts, would you make me the happiest man alive and be my boyfriend?" 

"Sure." He said, nonchalant. 

"Jeez, sounds more excited." 

"I mean I'll give you an A for effort." 

"Fuck off that was really hard-" And he kissed me, again and again, and again, until my lips were bruised red. 

"You've got to stop doing that," I said breathlessly. 

"Just love you so much." He kissed my jaw,  _ jesus christ.  _

"Love you more." And I had never known love greater than the love I had for Garrett Watts.

**Author's Note:**

> * The phrase, ''I love you right up to the moon." and "Oh that is far, that is very, very far." was originally written by Sam McBratney in "Guess How Much I Love You", may he rest in peace. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, this is definitely one of the longer works I have done and it's become my favorite.


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